The party was in full swing by the time the sun began to set. I was pleased to see that the nearby conference area was deserted. According to Rafe, the horde of conference-goers had disappeared an hour ago to attend a gourmet Slow Food event in the large banquet room of the Inn on Main Street. The two world-class chefs had designed a menu that sounded fantastic and there was nothing like the promise of free food to attract a conference crowd. I had no hope at all that there might be leftovers.
We all hung out in the kitchen for a little while until Rafe took the steaks out to the grill. Then, as with almost any party anywhere on earth, the women continued to chat in the kitchen while the men stood outside and kibitzed around the grill.
“I’m sorry Emily couldn’t be here,” Marigold said, “but we plan to have plenty of dinner parties in the future that she’ll be able to attend.”
Emily was catering a small private party tonight for Julian Reedy and his fellow ethnobotanists. And didn’t that sound like a good time?
Marigold had finished chopping tomatoes and added them to the salad, then put the bowl into the refrigerator. Closing the door to the fridge, she whipped around and blurted, “I told him.”
There was a long second of silence and then we all grabbed her in a big group hug.
“I’m so relieved that you were able to talk to him about it,” I said.
“So am I,” she said.
“So how did he react?” Jane asked.
“Just as Shannon predicted,” she said, squeezing my hand. “He said he wished he could’ve killed Dillon himself.”
“Good answer,” Lizzie said with a curt nod. “I’m glad, since we all feel the same way.”
“I know I do,” Jane muttered, scowling at the reminder of Marigold’s attack.
“So do you feel better?” Lizzie asked.
“So much better,” Marigold said with a sigh. “And now I don’t want to talk about it again tonight. I just want to relax and have fun with you guys for a few hours before we have to jump back into the conference scene tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me,” Lizzie said. “I’ll pour more wine.”
I dutifully held out my glass for a refill, then led the way out to the patio. I was happy to see that Rafe had invited Niall to dinner as well. The two men had bonded over the virtues of reclaimed glass and stone during the months of construction of the patio and the other outlying stonework around Rafe’s property. Now Niall was regaling Lizzie’s husband Hal with exploits of his days as a teacher in an Edinburgh high school. It seemed that Niall had done a little bit of everything before finding his bliss as a stonemason.
Marigold went over to sit on the hearth near Rafe, who was keeping an eagle eye on the steaks being grilled.
It really was a relief to know that Marigold had told him about Dillon’s duplicity. It had been so deeply painful for her that it might have haunted her throughout their marriage. But looking at them now, so animated and happy to be with each other, I could only hope that things would be wonderful for them from now on.
I could still remember the night last year when Marigold had admitted to all of us that she was dating the new guy in town. Raphael Nash and she had met at the historical society, where Marigold was exhibiting her quilts and Rafe was giving lectures and demonstrations on installing solar shingles on Victorian homes. It was pretty much love at first sight for Rafe, and after a few dates, he asked Marigold to marry him. But she had refused his proposal.
Undeterred, Rafe went on a campaign to win Marigold’s heart, even going so far as to paint marigolds on the old wooden water towers around town. I had seen one of the brightly painted wooden towers while I was out driving one afternoon and had questioned Marigold about it. She was furious, but finally admitted that she was falling in love with Rafe. But since she had been raised Amish and had deliberately moved away from her community, the last thing she wanted to do was become a farmer’s wife.
When Rafe realized why she was refusing to marry him, he quickly assured her that she would never have to milk another cow, ever again.
And he had kept his word. It helped that he was ridiculously wealthy and could hire a dozen people to milk cows and run tractors.
I smiled at the memory.
“What are you thinking about?” Mac asked as he joined me by the patio table and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
I told him where my mind had gone and he agreed that it was nice to see Rafe and Marigold so happy.
“Especially in the middle of all this upheaval,” he added. “First the house renovation, now this conference. And the death of his partner, of course. No matter how big a jerk that guy was, it had to be traumatic for Rafe. The two of them are going to need a vacation after this.”
“I think we’re all going to need one,” I said.
We strolled lazily around the new patio, checking out the fascinating patterns in the stones. When we reached the edge of the patio, where newly planted trees blocked off the view of the conference grounds, I frowned and squinted at the shadows along the side of the house. “Who’s that?”
“It’s Niall,” Mac murmured.
“But that’s . . . oh.” I whipped around and, slipping my arm through Mac’s, quickly headed in the opposite direction.
“Are you all right?” Mac whispered in my ear.
“Yeah. Wow. Just a little . . . surprised.”
“I’d call it a shockwave, based on your reaction.”
“Well, yeah. Because that was Jane with Niall.” I shook my head, still dumbfounded. “I had no idea. And you know, I’m pretty sharp when it comes to figuring out who’s doing what with whom.”
He grinned. “Guess Jane knows how to keep a secret.”
“What kind of friend is that?” I said huffily. I was kidding of course, sort of. But I couldn’t wait to corner Jane at the earliest opportunity.
“By the way,” Mac said, changing topics, to my relief. “I didn’t ask if you enjoyed the panel this afternoon.”
“Oh, yes.” I stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss. “I loved it. I was so proud of you. The crowd loved you. And you were so funny. The subject matter was a little scary, too. But all three of you were really creative and entertaining.”
“I can’t believe we filled the air dome,” he admitted. “And I’m glad you found it a little scary. It was supposed to be. But we wanted to play for some laughs, too.”
“You succeeded. It was really fun.” I took a deep breath and said, “Would you be upset if I went to Sketch Horn’s panel tomorrow? I’ve never officially met him, but from everything you say about him, I’m dying to see how he handles things.”
He gazed down at me, shaking his head. “No, I won’t be upset. In fact, I had the exact same thought just a few minutes ago. It’s like you were reading my mind.”
“If I can sneak away from the barn raising for an hour, we can go together.”
He kissed the top of my head. “It’s a date.”
I watched Marigold grab the steak platter and take it into the house. Jane followed her inside as Rafe, Hal, and Niall argued about marinades while they continued watching the meat.
“Isn’t it a beautiful night?” Lizzie said, coming over to join us.
Mac grinned. “Sure is.”
“You can see a million stars out here,” I said, marveling at how clear the sky was, once you got a few miles away from all of the ambient lights of town.
Without warning, the sound of rifle fire exploded in the night air.
“What the hell?” Rafe said. “Everybody get down!” Then he raced into the house and disappeared.
“Was that a gunshot?” Lizzie demanded.
Mac hurried over to me. “Stay down.” Then he dashed away.
“I’m already there.” Instinctively, I hunkered down and stared out at the surrounding hills. From where I was perched, I co
uld see Mac running around the side of the house to the front. Niall followed him quickly, his kilt flapping as he ran.
The young trees planted at the perimeter of the patio gave us some protection from the conference site and the property beyond. But with the patio lights blazing, we could probably be seen for a mile in any direction.
“Where did that shot come from?” I asked.
“Maybe someone hunting in the woods?” Lizzie said.
“At seven o’clock at night?”
“No, probably not,” Lizzie admitted. “I’d just rather not think of the possibility that someone is out there shooting at one of us.”
Two minutes later, Niall, Mac, and Rafe came walking back to the patio.
“Couldn’t see anyone out there,” Rafe said, “but I have a feeling whoever took the shot is long gone.”
I was surprised, but also reassured to see Rafe carrying a shotgun. Now I figured out that that was why he had run inside. Because of course he had a shotgun somewhere in the house. After all, when there weren’t a dozen construction workers and hundreds of conference goers milling around, it could get pretty solitary out here. And with his nearest neighbor at least a half mile away, there wasn’t anyone he could call in an instant to help him protect his property except himself. And now Marigold.
I looked at Mac. “Did you see where the shot came from?”
“I have a feeling I know where it came from, but I’d rather check things out before I jump to any conclusions.”
“I can’t say where the bloody bullet came from,” Niall griped. “But the damn thing took off a corner of my bloody hearth.”
Chapter Seven
We were fairly certain that the shooter was gone, but in an abundance of caution, we quickly moved inside the house. Rafe whipped the steaks off the grill and brought them inside to the kitchen, where they would stay warm while we waited for the police to arrive. The potatoes were wrapped in foil and left in the oven, while the salad remained in the refrigerator.
Maybe it was silly that we were so focused on saving the food. But to be honest, that was more appealing than dwelling on the reality that someone had just taken a shot at one of us.
A few minutes ago, my mouth had been watering for a juicy steak, but now I couldn’t stomach it. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last long, but right now it looked as if none of us felt like eating until we had figured out what in the world was going on. Was one of us a target? Was Dillon only the first to die?
Chief Eric and Tommy arrived within twenty minutes of the attack and Leo Springer, the CSI guy, showed up five minutes later. Then a squad car raced up to the front of the house and two more officers poured out to begin searching the conference area, looking for anything suspicious. I recognized both of them and waved. Officer Mindy Payton was an old buddy from high school and I’d met Carlos Garcia when he worked on a murder case a few months ago while my sister was in town.
I wondered what sort of suspicious evidence they would find. Maybe a high-powered rifle stuffed inside someone’s complimentary conference tote bag?
Eric stayed inside to question all of us and take notes, while Tommy and Leo worked the scene outside on the patio. They tracked down the bullet in the flower bed that lined the stone patio. They studied the damage done to the hearth, took pictures of it from every angle, and then tried to figure out the trajectory of the bullet. After a half hour, they came inside and warmed up.
“What’s the verdict?” Eric asked Leo.
Leo packed his camera inside his steel briefcase. “The bullet struck the corner of the hearth at such an angle that there could only be one possible place the shot could’ve come from.”
“Where is that?”
“The shooter had to have been standing on the rooftop of that tower out by the barn.” Leo snapped his briefcase shut and glanced up. “Tommy tells me they call it an Ecosphere.”
Frowning, I looked at Mac. I wasn’t happy to hear that the Ecosphere had been used as a place to try and kill one of my friends, but I supposed it was good to know where the bullet might have come from. Maybe the killer had left some evidence up there, like fingerprints. Or a spent shell. Or hey, a greeting card. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for any of those clues to show up, but you never knew.
“When you’re ready, I’ll go with you and your officers to check out the Ecosphere,” Leo said.
“I’ll be a few more minutes here, Leo,” Eric said. He was flipping through his notepad when I asked a question I hadn’t heard anyone bring up yet.
“Who do you think the shooter was aiming at?” I wondered.
“Rafe, obviously,” Marigold said immediately, and clutched her fiancé’s arm. “He was standing right by the hearth while he was watching the steaks.”
“You’re the most likely target,” Eric conceded, gazing at Rafe. He made another quick note in his pad. “Your business partner was just killed two days ago and now an attempt has been made on your life. Is there someone attending your conference who might be trying to destroy your company?”
“Yeah,” Rafe said flatly. “Me.”
Eric’s eyes widened, then he frowned. “Explain. That is, if you don’t mind talking about company business in front of everyone here.”
“I don’t mind at all. They are my friends.” He squeezed Marigold’s hand and they shared a private smile. And I felt a warm glow settle over my heart. Whatever happened next, I knew that Rafe and Marigold would be okay.
“After I left the company last year,” Rafe began, “I held on to a majority interest. Dillon was in charge of the day-to-day running of the business, but I still had a say in the running of things, so to speak.” He glanced around at the group. “That’s confidential, by the way. We kept the arrangement quiet from the rest of the company because I wanted the staff to put their trust in Dillon and follow his leadership. But from the very beginning, it wasn’t working. He was spending way too much money on stupid stuff, like a helicopter, for God’s sake, and buying a hotel in Costa Rica. He was flying off to Vegas every weekend and losing a lot of money.”
He shook his head. “A lot of money. When he told me he was going to borrow from one of the company accounts—but swore he would make it all back quickly—I knew I couldn’t trust him with the finances anymore.”
Or anything else, I thought. We already knew Dillon was a serious creep, but now, we were finding out he was fatally stupid, too.
“Some of you already know this,” he continued as he began pacing back and forth. “But I’ve been thinking of cutting the cord completely for a while now. I want out. It’s not like I need the money anymore. I’ve made enough for six lifetimes so I don’t need to worry about that, but that’s not the reason why I wanted to get out. Frankly, I just didn’t need the hassle anymore.” He glanced at Marigold. “I’ve got better things to focus on now.”
“Can’t blame you for that,” Mac said.
“And by the way,” Rafe said, scowling, “when I say hassle, I mean Dillon.”
“Think we got that,” Eric said.
Hal gave a rueful laugh. “Yeah, we’re hearing you.”
Rafe went on, “He was getting more and more unreliable and he was scaring some of the staff with his erratic behavior. I’d been getting complaint calls from the office almost every day for the past year.” He sighed. “And now he’s gone. And there’s no one else who can run the company.”
“Sounds like it’s way past time you cut that cord,” Hal said.
“Yeah, it is. My life is here now, and I want to enjoy every day with Marigold. I’ve got my wacky experiments and inventions, and I’m fiddling with new ice cream flavors now that I’ve got the cows on a regular milking schedule.”
“We’re happy about that, too,” Lizzie assured him with a grin.
“And most importantly, I’d like to try and save a little bit of the world through the foundation.
” He glanced around. “And I’m blathering. But I hope I answered your question.”
“You did,” Eric said, still jotting down details in his notepad. “But the person who shot at you tonight might not know about your plan to close down the company.”
“Nobody knows,” he said quietly, “since I only made that decision final this afternoon.”
“Is there someone next in line to take over?” Eric asked. “Or someone who thinks they’re next in line?”
Rafe leaned back against the kitchen island. “We have a number of department heads that could handle different aspects of the business, but nobody can do it all, not like Dillon or I did.”
Eric nodded, took another minute to catch up with his notes, and then glanced over at Rafe. “Any possible suspects come to mind? Who would have the most to gain with you and your partner both gone? To put it more bluntly, who would like to see you dead?”
Rafe mulled Eric’s question, and at that moment I realized something important that nobody else had mentioned. I cautiously held up my hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but before you get too far into naming suspects and motives, there’s one thing we should probably consider.”
Eric turned and looked at me, and I could read exasperation in his expression. I couldn’t blame him. He had been dragged out of the house at dinnertime to investigate a shooting. Besides knowing he would have to work late into the night, he was probably getting hungry. “What is it, Shannon?”
“Well, it makes sense that whoever killed Dillon might also want to kill Rafe. I mean, it’s a horrible thought, but you know, that’s how murdering psychopaths think, right?”
“What’s your point, Shannon?” Eric said. His tone was scolding enough to make me wince.
“Getting there.” I huffed out a breath. Nobody had any patience anymore. “My point is that barely two seconds before we heard the gunshot, it was Marigold who was sitting on the corner of the hearth where that bullet hit.” I stopped pacing. “It was just lucky that she got up and headed for the kitchen at that exact moment.”
Shot Through the Hearth Page 14
